


In a world of wool and hay

by AngelofDarkness1605



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-05-13 09:26:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14746200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelofDarkness1605/pseuds/AngelofDarkness1605
Summary: On the eve of another major step in her acting career, Belle French finds something yet more wonderful on the immense production location of her latest project.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Funen Village in Denmark (where I got the idea for this fic _four years ago_ ) and the Dutch open air museum.
> 
> Many thanks to Inkfire for the wonderful beta work.

Belle may have chosen to become an actress, years ago, to immerse herself in stories in a way she couldn't even with the best of books, but only now does she discover the extent to which this is possible.

She smiles broadly at Ruby, her personal assistant turned best friend, as for the first time, they make their way through the sprawling area where she'll live for her latest role—the most promising of her career so far.

Exploring this crossover between a gorgeous rural estate and an outdoor history museum, and still wearing one of the incredible dresses which have been designed for her, Belle already wholly feels like the brave princess she'll be portraying here.

The fact that both paparazzi and the general public are barred from the entirety of the park for as long as it serves as their set doesn't hurt either. It will be a considerable relief in its own right to enjoy something remotely resembling privacy for just one day, let alone the almost ten months she is scheduled to spend here for the shoot of the first season alone.

Despite her gladness to be free of Director Mills' rather smug and dominant welcome, her spirit falls when she realizes that there are still people staring at her. There may not be any press, visitors or even any extras around for miles, but it turns out that she has caught the attention of yet another demographic.

The reenactors she found so utterly charming only a minute ago—farmers, traders and craftspeople to complete the landscape of cottages, manors and fields—clearly have a major disadvantage to them.

"So it turns out you're a world-famous actress here as well," Ruby mutters, looking at her with concern.

"I suppose it was naive of me to hope otherwise," she murmurs, watching the reenactors retrieve smartphones and cameras from beneath their no longer quite so credible historic tunics and dresses.

More than used to avoiding pointing lenses by now, Belle quickly turns around. No matter how much she loves her work and her life, every once in a while, she just wishes she had simply stuck to her books.

"I'll keep them at bay for as long as I can," Ruby remarks, quickly glancing at the paper map of the park in her hands. "Why don't you take that path over there? It should lead to a much less populated area."

Thoroughly grateful for her friend's support and quick thinking, she immediately does as suggested. To her delight, it only takes her reaching the wandering path among the trees to be wholly submerged in the experience again.

The excited murmuring behind her back quickly replaced by twittering birds and the humming of bees, she almost feels like she  _is_ the fantasy princess she is going to portray. Thoughts of her approach to the role are interrupted, however, when she hears whistling of a kind that can't be produced by any animal.

Bracing herself to be met with yet more gaping faces, she cautiously proceeds in the only way that she can without getting back to the people Ruby is—successfully so far—keeping away from her.

To her relief, she can only spot one person when she encounters a single farm, considerably smaller than the rest she's seen. It's surrounded by some grasslands and fences, the latter containing several adorably fluffy sheep. The single person is located in front of the hut-like structure, so caught up in his work that he isn't aware of her approach.

She stands still next to a large tree that slightly obscures her, eyeing him curiously. These days, she barely gets the chance to observe others like this, if only because they are usually very quickly alerted to her presence by the sheer chaos that tends to surround her. But more than observing human behavior for the sake of her profession, it turns out that she likes watching  _him_.

He isn't just any other person, she soon finds out. His slight build and graying hair are very appealing, not to mention the deft hands with which he is spinning on an ancient-looking wheel. There's an elegance in him of a kind she's rarely seen before, and she's struck by the calmness and gentleness of his expression as he pours all of his attention into his delicate task.

"There you are!" Ruby remarks from somewhere behind her, coming to stand at her side.

Belle would usually be pleased to see her, but now that it interrupts the spinner's work and causes a rather shocked look to appear on his face, she only has a lackluster smile to spare for her friend and confidante.

Her eyes remain on the man, who appears to be more surprised to see them than the other way around. Then again, she knows only too well that this is the exact sort of reaction she has tended to get in the past few years… yet there isn't a hint of superficial eagerness or even recognition on his face.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you before," he says, standing up hastily.

He picks up the walking stick that is lying on the ground next to him as he does so, making his way towards them with a gait that's slightly uneven despite the object's aid. Not quite meeting their gazes, he only comes to a standstill once he's right in front of them.

Intrigued by the way his loose shirt is caught against his lithe chest by the wind and the quite strong Scottish accent she detects in his lovely low voice, she finds her fascination increasing yet further when he unceremoniously drops to his knees.

"Ladies," he mutters, lowering his head towards the ground.

The two women share a confused glance, not quite knowing what to make of this. Belle may still be wearing her fairytale dress, but surely that doesn't lead to  _this_ sort of greeting. She might have taken him for another over-excited or simply disturbed fan, but he is setting off none of the instincts she has developed over these.

"Please don't trouble yourself on our account," she utters after a few seconds, wincing at the discomfort he is clearly in.

"Thank you," he replies, straightening himself a little. "Director Mills insists on my greeting the guests like this. Not many of them come all the way here, but it's still rather…"

He abruptly pauses, as if afraid to speak any bad word about his employer, no matter how just Belle suspects them to be.

"I'm sorry she does that."

Noting the trouble he has getting back on his feet, she doesn't think twice before closing the last distance between them to offer him some assistance. Distantly considering that she hasn't held anyone's hand other than to shake on a business deal or meet with fans for a considerable time, she helps him back up.

He stares up at her in startled surprise at the gesture, allowing her to see his face properly for the first time. She is struck in a similar way when she finds how  _gorgeous_ he is, his cheekbones sharp and his brown eyes large and deep. There's a gentleness in him, an innocence of sorts that she has rarely encountered at any point in her life, let alone once her acting career took off.

"Since you're here, I suppose you want a demonstration of the spinning wheel?"

"If you don't mind, we'd love that," her friend remarks before Belle can tell him that they don't wish to bother him any further.

Ruby nudges her towards him and nods meaningfully at both the device and the man himself, having somehow already picked up on her fascination for him… and, unlike her, realizing that some further knowledge about the historic world in which her next project is to take place also wouldn't hurt her.

That's how Belle finds herself standing at Ruby's side as the man shows them how the spinning wheel works and which materials are involved. His explanation is obviously scripted, but it's not a prefabricated narration that he knows very well or can quote fluently—which only makes his words lovelier. This appears to be caused by shyness more than anything else, for he knows exactly what he's talking about and there's a subtle yet contagious enthusiasm about him.

"I can… I can teach you to do it yourself, if you like," he suggests, glancing at Belle from behind his slightly graying hair.

"Belle would love that!" Ruby remarks, already nudging her forward again.

She'd love to indeed, if only so she can spend more time with him, but she has no idea why Ruby is so invested in this. As if reading her thoughts once more, the latter leans in to her to whisper in her ear, softly enough that he won't be able to hear:

"You're into him and he keeps checking you out, although I can tell he's got no idea who you are. Besides, there's no one here to see what's going on. Go for it!"

" _You_ are here," Belle replies good-naturedly.

"Not for much longer; I'm going to leave you two lovebirds alone."

"Nothing is going to  _happen_ ," she murmurs, glancing at the spinner. "I'm pretty sure that he's far too decent or, well,  _shy_ to make a move like that. Besides, he might very well be with someone already!"

"He isn't wearing a wedding ring and he's going to show you  _moves_ , all right," Ruby smirks, pointing at the spinning wheel he's preparing for her novice attempts. "But if they're not the kind of moves you're most interested in, why don't you make some yourself? I bet he won't even notice how much of a dork you are, especially when you try to flirt."

"Thanks for that," she mutters, playfully bumping her shoulder into Ruby's. "But simply because he doesn't wear a wedding ring doesn't mean that he's actually single, let alone looking for someone or…"

"Are you ready?" the man asks, his fingers twitching a little at his sides.

Wondering if he's nervous, Belle can only hope that he hasn't overheard their conversation after all. She likes to think that he hasn't, as he seems to be the type who wouldn't have interrupted them otherwise. However, Ruby answers him before she can further consider the subject, giving her another gentle push in his direction.

"Belle is more than ready. I have some other things to do, so you can focus entirely on her."

She can't help but think that he appears pleased with that prospect, smiling tentatively at her. It doesn't seem likely—if only because nothing like this has ever happened to her before—but perhaps he felt as quickly taken with her as she did with him after all.

"Why don't you sit down so you can try it for yourself?"

Bidding Ruby a distracted goodbye, she does as he suggests, delightfully lost in his warm brown eyes. Filled with an unfamiliar sense of excitement, she settles herself on the bench, feeling every inch the adventurous princess as she rearranges her voluminous skirt around her.

Almost from the very beginning, his demonstration is mostly lost on her. Instead, she's thoroughly aware of the sound of his low and soft voice, the gracefulness of his hands as he prepares the wool. Yet more than that, she's deliciously captivated by his nearness, the heat and scent of his body. The latter doesn't have the slightest hint of artificiality, and yet it's the best she's ever smelled on a person.

No matter how interesting she finds this craft and how much she actually wants to learn it, she's far too focused on him to perform the work properly. She isn't even encouraged by her wish not to disappoint the spinner by being such a poor student, her hoping to impress him, despite being hardly used to any manual labor.

However, he is patient to a fault, not seeming to care about having to give her the same instruction more than once. It only makes her like him more—and as it turns out, she finds herself more attracted to him with every minute that passes.

"I'm sorry I'm so bad at this," she says at last, fearing that she's wasting his time… and hoping that they might switch to more personal activities so she can find out more about him and discover whether he's open to the sort of romantic contact she is increasingly starting to long for.

"I'm probably not much of a teacher," he murmurs apologetically. "Not many people get all the way here. I usually like the quiet, but now I wish…"

Horrified that he would put the blame for her lack of progress on himself, she refuses to make this any worse by trying to coax him to finish that sentence when he trails off wistfully—no matter how much she'd like to know what he was going to say.

"It's not your fault at all," she quickly protests instead, "I've always been a bit of a klutz."

"I'm sure it isn't all that bad. There's another approach we could try, if you like?"

"I'd be delighted to do that, yes," she replies, her enthusiasm for his craft and, especially, her own potential improvement renewed by his hopeful tone.

However, Belle soon finds that she's only likely to get worse at this when he sits down on his haunches behind her and reaches for her hands. Apparently, he means to guide her every move with his own body.

"Is this all right?" he inquires as he questioningly brings his hands towards hers.

"More than all right," she murmurs happily.

She gasps when he carefully covers her fingers with his own, showing her how to get the wool along the wheel. The insides of his hands are calloused, but his touch is the gentlest she's ever known, and so is the way he loosely holds his arms around her.

This way, Belle is finally able to spin the wool properly—when he is, for all intents and purposes, doing all the work. She's oblivious to both of these developments, though—going as far as to close her eyes so as to enjoy their closeness as much as she can.

His hands are warm, and so is the sensation of his breath against her nape. She can hear him inhale and exhale, the rhythm rather quick, prompting an increase in the speed of her own breathing as well.

"You're doing wonderful, see?" he murmurs, his words brushing against the side of her neck.

As if that weren't delightful enough, a fluttering feeling on her right hand has her opening her eyes again. Rather than looking at the work the spinner expressed his pride for, she glances at the spot where she is still experiencing that lovely sensation, finding that he's caressing the back of her hand with his index finger.

"We both are," she whispers, wondering how this man was able to seduce her in a way she didn't know was possible until now, apparently without even trying or being aware of it.

Wanting him to  _become_ aware without spooking him, Belle leans backwards a little into his not-quite embrace, closing the distance he has maintained all this time between their bodies. He  _gasps_  when her back brushes against his solid chest, and he moves into her as well, filling her with hope and ideas of  _other_ ways to make him sound like that.

But rather than further increasing the contact in whichever way he's also comfortable with, he clears his throat and abruptly moves entirely away from her. Belle does the same immediately, feeling bereft as soon as she has done so, but not wanting to cause him any discomfort like she just so clearly did.

It's obvious to her now that he has only acted this way towards her out of kindness, and has no interest in her beyond that of sharing the skill of his craft, and perhaps having a conversation or two in the process.

Feeling yet more ridiculous for her earlier misinterpretation than she could possibly have envisioned when Ruby urged her to go after him, she hastily stands up again. Determined to leave before she accidentally makes him any more uneasy, she murmurs an apology and rushes away.


	2. Chapter 2

Later that day, when the opening hours of the park are over and any reenactors—the spinner included—must be long gone, Belle tries and fails to focus on her script. Too restless to stay in her previously so pleasant trailer on the edge of the grounds of the set and knowing that there are no gates between here and the park, she picks up one of her unread books and makes her way back to the area where she had such a lovely afternoon until her own impulsiveness ruined it.

She enjoys the park yet more now that she has it all to herself. She can wander over the moonlit fields and along the now entirely quiet buildings to her heart's content, without worrying about encountering anyone who would be liable to throw themselves at her like she's their private property.

It's much easier to think about the script and her role now that she's roaming freely in the environment where it's supposed to take place. Although she doesn't think about the spinner for a while, her feet carry her back to his modest farm regardless.

Smiling when she spots the sheep on his premises, she supposes they won't mind getting more acquainted with her—and that he won't either. The animals, at least, are happy to make their way in her direction despite the late hour, bleating softly as they gather at her feet and curiously sniffle at her.

Laughing in delight, she ruffles their fur, loving how soft it is. The act is not nearly as lovely as she imagines it would be to run her hands all over the spinner, drawing his body out of his shyness even if his mind still clings to it.

Pleased by their welcome, she finds herself idly thinking that they're just as cordial as the man who keeps them, albeit considerably less inhibited. Belle would love to sit down among them, but no moonlight reaches their pen. That's why she opts for the area right next to it, where she will have plenty of light to read by  _and_ _can_ sit comfortably among several stacks of hay.

Pleased with the perfect reading spot she has found, she loses herself in the book she spent far too long finding no time for. She doesn't allow herself to wonder whether there's any chance the spinner will ever invite her here of his own accord.

She has read a few chapters when a sudden shadow in the corner of her eye catches her attention. Looking up, she goes still when she finds none other than the charming spinner looking at her from the open front door of the hut.

"You're still here?!" she brings out, scrambling to her feet.

Dropping her book in the process, she stares at him, the question of whether her imagination has somehow conjured up this fantasy overtaken by the realization that she is, for all intents and purposes, trespassing.

"I am," he remarks, not sounding upset, but just as confused as she is, to her relief.

"How…" she mutters, vividly recalling Director Mills saying that all reenactors are only at the park during opening hours.

"I live here," he responds, gesturing at the small farm—his  _home_ , apparently—with a self-depreciating gesture.

"But how… I didn't even know people  _can_."

"I don't need much," he answers, shrugging self-consciously.

"May I ask  _why_ … **"**

"I like it here. It's quiet and peaceful… less difficult than the world outside. I had an understanding with the previous director; he asked me to come here, as my aunties taught me the spinning trade. It was just a few hours a week at first, but we both liked it so much that he had a contract drawn up for me to be here full time."

"What about your food, your mail…" she wonders, barely able to comprehend the notion of actually living like this, even in the context of her own nomadic lifestyle… although it serves as perfect inspiration for her character.

"I grow my own food and make my own clothes," he states, as if it really were all that simple. "As for mail and so on… well, I'm not very good with all that. Technically, I'm registered at the main building, so I do get a message there sometimes."

"What about your family?"

"I have a son in New York. He visits, sometimes. He's very busy with his own life… and he probably disapproves of mine. But at least it's… it's safe."

"Doesn't it get lonely?" she asks softly, her heart breaking a little for him, even as it swells with yet more affection.

"It does," he murmurs, lowering his gaze.

"Don't you ever… wish for someone? Not necessarily to live here, but to be together with every once in a while?"

"No one could possibly want this," he mutters, gesturing both at the small, very old-fashioned farm and his own being.

"I wouldn't be so certain of that."

She thought she couldn't feel yet more for him than she already did, but here they are—here  _she_ is, determined to visit him as often as he likes and she is capable of in-between shoots.

"At least the contract of my stay here is indefinite. Even Director Mills can't change that. But I know that she won't allow anyone else to live on the premises. So how are  _you_ … **"**

"I don't truly live here, at least not permanently. Weren't you told about the television production which is going to take place here for the next ten months?"

"I heard that there would be some new people, and that some parts of the park would be closed off. But it isn't this part, so I didn't pay all that much attention to it all. I just hadn't thought I'd see anyone here at such an hour, let alone… well, I didn't expect to see  _you_ here again."

"And here I am."

"So you're… staying? For those ten months, I mean?"

No matter how much she would like it to be otherwise, she can't gauge how he feels about this.

"I am, yes. And if the production is indeed as successful as we now expect, I'll be back for at least another ten months afterwards."

"So that's why you were wearing such a nice dress."

"It is, yes," she confirms, determined to wear it again if he turns out to be open to meeting her more often.

"The clothes you're wearing now are very nice too," he hastily adds.

She can't tell if the sudden redness on his cheeks is a physical response to seeing her in this new and much more revealing outfit or if he, admittedly much more likely, is embarrassed about having potentially offended her by his implication about her current clothing.

Belle is only more intrigued now that she has discovered that he lives like this. Not to mention that he doesn't seem to care about the production, or her role in it. But it also makes her yet more aware of the extent to which she is intruding on his personal life.

"I don't really know whether I'm actually allowed to be here. But I had such a nice afternoon with you, and I thought… well, I'm sorry for the interruption. I'm afraid to imagine what you must have thought when you found me like this. I'll leave you in peace now."

"Please don't go?" he requests, his voice almost inaudible, as if it took all of his courage to ask her this.

"You'd like me to  _stay_?"

"Only if you want to, of course. I imagine there are places you'd much rather be…  _people_ you'd much rather be with."

"I'd love to stay! But I was under the impression that you didn't want me to."

"Why wouldn't I want you to be here?" he asks, sounding yet more confused by this than by discovering her near his house at this hour.

"When you were teaching me to spin this afternoon, I… I made you uncomfortable. The way I left was very rude. Surely you don't want me around anymore."

"I liked what we did this afternoon. Very much so. It was a pity that you left. I just thought…"

"What?" she asks softly, shivering a little at his tone and hoping that it's not only her wishful thinking that makes his voice sound filled with longing.

"I was enjoying it too much. Surely you could tell… surely you didn't  _want_ that."

"I… I had no idea," she replies, wondering how she could have been so focused on her attraction for him that she didn't even notice it might be returned after all. "But I don't mind in the slightest. In fact, I'm glad you were, because I was enjoying it very much as well."

She watches him carefully, but he doesn't relax due to her admission, let alone act on the mutual interest for one another they just practically expressed in any way. Not wanting to push him again, but encouraged by the way he lingers on the doorway, looking intently at her with those big brown eyes, she opts for a hopefully safe compromise.

"My name is Belle," she declares, stepping forward to offer him her hand.

Just like she hoped, her first name still doesn't prompt a single sign of recognition on his expression. Only now that she has starred in seven movies and two television series does she feel so thoroughly grateful to meet someone who doesn't know any of them.

"My name is Rumple," he replies, lightly shaking her extended hand.

He looks like he's hoping for her not to remark on that highly intriguing name, so she doesn't—at least until they can, hopefully, get better acquainted.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Rumple," she just responds, loving the way his name feels on her lips.

"The pleasure is entirely mine."

She doesn't quite know what to say after that, if only because she's marveling at how wholly sincere he sounds, how beautiful he is when he tentatively smiles at her. It hardly matters that the silence between them is lengthening, now that there's no spinning wheel in sight.

"You like reading?" he asks, his tone almost experimental as he gestures at the book in her hand.

"I do, yes," she beams at him, glad of this reminder to tell him what she was doing here—and of his expressing an interest in her. "That's why I came here, to find a quiet moonlit place to do it in. Your stacks of hay turned out to be the perfect spot."

"Feel free to come whenever you like."

"Thank you, that's very generous of you. I'll make certain to show up at more appropriate times, and announce myself to avoid situations like these from now on."

"You can visit whenever suits you, and there's no need for me to know when you are here. You surprised me this time, that's all. But it was a good surprise."

"You probably wish to go back indoors, but you could also join me out here if you like?" she asks, not quite wanting to take the risk of inviting herself into his home at this point, lest she spooks him again after all.

"If you would like that…"

"I would, very much. I wouldn't ask you otherwise, would I?"

"I suppose not."

The words she may have meant to say in response remain stuck on her lips when he steps out of his house, into the moonlit field she's already standing in. She can see him much more clearly now, all of her attention drawn to his half-open nightshirt—or rather, the glimpse of his tanned and lean chest she's spotting underneath.

"I should dress properly first," he says apologetically, moving to get back inside.

"I think you're dressed very appropriately for some midnight reading in a haystack." Belle is very tempted to tell him just how utterly gorgeous he is to her, but he looks so horribly self-conscious that she decides against it. "I bet you always look very good, no matter what you wear."

This alternative compliment evokes a skeptical look from him, but he follows her regardless. His eyes remain on her with each step he takes, finding his way with the aid of his cane although he doesn't see where he's going.

 _If there's anyone here who looks very good, it's_ you.

She can't tell whether it's his ever so quiet voice or only her increasingly impatient imagination that has spoken, and nothing in his expression implies the former. Still, she takes it as a good sign either way when he sits down in the hay with her, reclining against the same stack.

The stalks beneath her thighs are itching a little, and she thoughtlessly rearranges her skirt. When she looks up again, Rumple quickly glances away, the redness on his cheeks visible even in the pale moonlight.

Fully realizing by now that her current clothing is considerably more modern than the costume she wore this afternoon, and considerably more baring, she smiles encouragingly at him. He returns it ever so shyly rather than continuing to take in the sight of her mostly bare legs, but she counts that as a positive regardless.

"What's the story about?" he asks, gesturing at the book she had quite forgotten about.

Her summary of the novel is probably not nearly as concise and coherent as she would like it to be, not when he's expressing more intrinsic interest in her pastimes than anyone else since her mother died. Despite her doubtlessly rather rambling description, he listens to her with unceasing attention, eagerness even, as if he truly cared about the story… or greatly enjoyed listening to her.

Belle is flushed with excitement at being with him like this, oblivious to the increasingly low temperature as the night gradually progresses. Only when he shivers visibly is she reminded of their thin clothing and the late hour.

"I'm not cold, Belle."

The words are spoken perfectly neutrally, but there's something in his eyes that tells her that his reaction is caused by  _her_ rather than the temperature. Combined with the way he shifts another inch or so towards her, it encourages her to scoot a few more inches over to his side as well.

"Maybe we should get yet closer together, make sure that both of us keep nicely warm?" she offers coyly.

"I'd like that," he breathes, although he doesn't make a single move to actually achieve this.

Not having quite expected anything else from the so utterly unassuming spinner at this point, Belle is the one who closes the distance between them. She eyes him closely the whole time, making certain not to make him uncomfortable again after all. Thankfully, there's nothing but delight on his features when she tentatively rests her head on his shoulder and presses her left side lightly against his right.

"Why don't you continue reading?" he asks, as if he were perfectly happy to be with her like this.

She would very much like to change this, but she's starting to learn to recognize implicit invitations when he offers them to her. Her focus couldn't be further from her book, however—especially when he slowly brings his arms around her.

For a moment, she's convinced that he'll lock his hands around her body and pull her more firmly against him. Once again, however, it turns out that he has something else in mind—possibly that it doesn't even occur to him to seek more physical nearness for the sake of it. But this gesture as such turns out to be yet lovelier than what she was considering.

His hands questioningly join hers on her upper thighs to support the weight of her book, somehow managing to touch no part of her but her hands while doing so. But he does brush his nose against her hair, and she likes to think she can hear him inhale deeply.

"Do you want to read with me?" she asks as she opens the book, turning to the first page.

"No thank you. I'm not… I'm not very good with letters."

"I'd be very happy to read to you."

"I… I'd like that," he replies, as if no one had ever offered him anything so valuable.

For her part, Belle decides that she's only getting started. If he's open to it, she'll be more than happy to help him read—he might already pick up some things from this. But more importantly, she fully intends to cherish him with all she has, wanting him to know that  _she_ very much enjoys his company… and that she'd love to have as much of him as he's willing to give her.

Surrounded by his scent and arms, his long hair brushing against the side of her neck with each gust of wind, she finds that reading aloud properly isn't nearly as easy as it usually would be. But Rumple doesn't seem to mind or even notice that she often stumbles on the words—that she begins to trail off with increasing frequency and length, lulled asleep by his warm and quiet presence.


	3. Chapter 3

Belle doesn't quite recall falling asleep, but it's clear that she must have done so at some point while she was reading. Her eyes have drifted closed and when she opens them, she's no longer in the spinner's arms, although they're still among the hay. It's still night, the moon is still out, and her book has been placed neatly on a nearby haystack.

Her head is resting on something remarkably pleasant. Shifting her full attention to her current position and Rumple's role in it, she's thrilled to find that she has ended up sleeping with her head on his thigh. It turns out that he's wide awake. Rather than being disturbed by this new kind of nearness, he looks at her with the softest, most reverent expression she's ever seen on anyone.

"Go back to sleep if you like," he whispers, questioningly bringing his hand towards her shoulder.

When she nods in encouragement, he momentarily falters, as if he hadn't expected her to accept his touch at all. But after a moment, he does place his palm on the edge of her shoulder, caressing it very lightly. She'd love for him to touch a lot more of her, but it's lovely in its own right that he's making the move of his own accord.

"Will you go to sleep as well? It must be late."

"I'm hardly tired, and I… well, I'd like to watch you, if you don't mind."

"You like watching me sleep?" she asks softly, her heart fluttering.

"Very much so. You're… you're very pretty, Belle. But if you don't want me to, I'll…"

His tone is apologetic, and she shushes him gently before his words can become yet more so. Maybe they've reached a point where some forwardness will do both of them some good after all.

"Would you like me to kiss you, Rumple?"

He  _splutters_ , as if almost choking on his own breath. But although he looks like he can barely believe any of this, he nods lightly in response. Only when his gaze is drawn to her lips does she realize that she has licked them, and that he very much seems to like watching her in this particular moment as well.

"We can go as slowly as you wish… or as quickly," she breathes, nerves also starting to well up inside of her, simply because she has never met anyone she desires like this spinner—especially not after her private life all but became a commodity.

But she trusts Rumple with all her heart and they're entirely, blissfully alone in the night, the moon and the stars their only witnesses. With him, right here, she feels as safe as free.

She doesn't quite know where to start, having never found herself actively pursuing a partner of hers like this before. Given the way he fidgets, his eyes overflowing with longing his body doesn't seem to know how to express, he is in a similar situation.

 _Do the brave thing and bravery will follow_  is the creed of her character in the new production, and it might not hurt to live by that in real life as well.

Her breath quickening, she sits up from her previous position in his lap. Scooting closer towards him, she brings his face slowly to his, giving him ample opportunity to break away in case he changes his mind.

But the spinner does nothing of the sort—quite the opposite, for he leans into her as well. He closes his eyes and so does she, her heart racing in anticipation. But instead of focusing all her attention on their kiss, the temporary lack of vision leads to their noses meeting rather than their lips.

"I'm sorry, I should have warned you that I'm not good at any of this at all and…" he immediately blurts out.

"We'll figure it out together," she replies, reaching for him with both of her hands.

One of her palms resting against his jaw and the other on the side of his neck, she has the presence of mind to angle her head a little when she closes the distance between them again. This time their mouths do meet, if only fleetingly, none of them used to the jolt that spreads from their lips to the rest of their bodies.

Rumple is the one to kiss her again almost immediately, the press of their lips a little firmer and longer this time—and yet better now that to some extent, they know what to expect. She laughs at the excitement of this wonderful discovery, the idle awareness that they're only just getting started.

He joins her, the sound of his laughter vibrating low against her mouth, which she can't  _not_ use to brush her lips against his once more—increasing the length of the kiss again. It prompts the spinner to reach out for her as well, cupping her cheeks in his hands.

"Is this all right?" he asks, the words caressing her lips even as he slightly withdraws for a few seconds in order to speak.

"More than all right," she replies, "you can touch whichever part of me you like."

It's hardly an offer she would make to anyone else, but by now, she's hardly surprised that all he does is stroke her hair questioningly. He twines his hands in her tresses after her enthusiastic nod, sighing as if he had never known anyone or anything as lovely as this—as  _her_.

The same very much goes for Belle when she begins to explore his hair as well, marveling at its softness… almost its sensitivity, even, each gentle touch drawing both content and unmistakably aroused noises from him.

It would be easy to think that this couldn't get any more wonderful, but she soon concludes otherwise. It's quite by accident that she scratches the back of his neck lightly with her fingertips, her movements becoming rather unfocused. But before she can apologize for having potentially hurt him with her nails, he's asking her to do it again in a surprised and deliciously hoarse voice.

Naturally, she grants that wish immediately.

The discoveries don't end there. He clings to her, kissing her firmly as she teases the skin and long hair at the nape of his neck for all she is worth, pulling her closer to him. When his hands moved from her face to her sides to accomplish this, he doubtlessly didn't mean to encounter her bare skin, but that's exactly what happens since her movements have caused her blouse—and her skirt, for that matter—to hitch upwards.

Belle moans with desire as his palm slides against her bare waist, the sound turning into one of disappointment when he abruptly withdraws. There's an apology in his eyes, but luckily, her own gaze tells him that it is far from needed before her addled mind has to formulate the same message.

Leaning a few inches away to actually see what he's doing, he needs no further invitation to reach out for her again in exactly the same manner. She giggles happily when he strokes his fingertips along her skin, with a tenderness that almost brings tears to her eyes.

When he kisses her once more, it's the easiest thing in the world to gently coax him into parting his lips. Both of them groan softly when they taste one another for the first time, their tongues exploring slowly.

They're so caught up in the moment and one another that they forget all about their balance, collapsing together onto the hay around them.

"Why don't you lean back against a haystack?" she says once they've straightened themselves somewhat and plucked the stalks from one another's hair.

"What about you?" he asks as he takes her up on her suggestion.

"I can't imagine being anywhere but right here," she says, hoping that there'll be no doubt about her intentions when she straddles his thighs.

Given his widening eyes, he understands perfectly, but his almost panicked look is not what she was hoping for. Wanting to put him at ease again, she immediately moves away.

As she does so, she belatedly becomes aware of what she had missed while too lost in his beautifully expressive face to notice what his loose cotton trousers aren't quite hiding any longer.

"You don't want to feel that," he murmurs, lowering his head.

"What if I do?" she whispers back, almost triumphant that she has evoked such a reaction within him, that he  _wants_ her like this.

There must be something about her that convinces him, despite his own doubts. He gives her a fragile smile, filled with disbelief, and shifts a little closer to her again. Belle takes this as her cue to straddle his thighs once more… and to slowly but surely slide up his body.

"It's beyond me why you don't mind feeling me, let alone like  _this_ , but I should also warn you that it won't take much at all for me to…"

Already knowing what he's going to say and determined to take away those doubts as well, Belle lightly but purposefully rocks her hips into his. They both cry out at the friction she causes, his hardened length providing perfect pressure against her yielding flesh.

"Let's just keep going," she breathes, craving to see the modest spinner come wholly undone more than anything right now.

For a long moment, he looks like he's not going to take her up on her offer; he glances down himself even as he leans a few inches into her, as if his body were telling him to go for it, but his mind still holding him back.

But then he nods slightly. What's more, the way he hungrily glances at her cleavage persuades her that she isn't the only one who wants this. She locks her arms around his neck, pressing her chest firmly against his, delighted when he places his hands on her back, stroking it with increasing confidence.

"Can we go slow?" he asks, his voice wonderfully hoarse. "You're giving me so much more than I ever… I hope this won't be over before it has begun."

"As slow as you like," she replies, more than happy to draw this out. "Just tell me if you want to ease off the pace or go faster."

They gasp in unison when she moves against him once more, making certain to rub as much of her body against his as she can. His hands flutter to her hips, inching under the fabric of her blouse.

Forehead to forehead, her eyes wide open to see as much of him as she possibly can, she marvels at each deep groan she draws from him, at the way the pressure between them keeps building and building, providing more pleasure than she's ever found with anyone before.

Yet better, there's no doubt in her mind that Rumple won't object to giving her her release if it doesn't follow from this—that he, in fact, will be nothing but eager to touch more of her once he has found his own peak.

He tries to keep still, as if attempting not to seek any more friction than she's giving him with her own movements. Needing him to know that as far as she's concerned, this will only get better if he moves right along with her, Belle beams at him and pulls none too lightly on the material of his trousers in encouragement.

Thankfully, Rumple gets the hint, returning her smile as he eagerly watches her, switching his attention between her face and the spot where their bodies are intimately pressed together every few seconds.

His hips are bucking upwards and into her own, his hold on her tightening as he becomes more and more vocal as well. Hearing him react to her in such a manner is wholly delightful in its own right, but knowing that it's the currently not quite so shy spinner she is making come undone like this makes it all yet better.

"Oh sweetheart," he groans as his fingers scramble for purchase on her back. "It's almost… I'm almost…"

"Let it happen," she goads him, his urgent tone adding to the fire within her. "Just enjoy it."

"I've never felt anything like this," he all but babbles as he presses his face hotly against the side of her neck. "You feel so good, sweetheart,  _so_ good, and…"

His words are cut off by something close to a whimper when he unmistakably finds his release, his entire body straining against hers as he sobs her name against her skin. Belle holds him tightly, closing her own eyes as well as she marvels at the raw power that takes over him.

She imagines his pleasure like it is her own, pulsing and throbbing as dampness spreads where she is straddling him, joining the wetness originating from her—gathering at the exact same spot. Delighted by the way he still shakes in her embrace long after the initial sensations must have worn off, she keeps rubbing herself against him, extending the aftermath of his pleasure and keeping her own arousal shimmering in her veins.

Gradually, Rumple entirely relaxes in her embrace, going practically boneless as he tenderly caresses her back and presses loving kisses against the side of her neck. She sighs in contentment, loving how it feels to be cherished by him like this.


	4. Chapter 4

"What about you?" the spinner murmurs, trailing his fingertips along her cheek. "Is there anything you'd like me to do for you?"

Belle shivers pleasantly at the gesture and, yet more so, at the prospect of finding the same bliss he just experienced.

"Oh yes. How about we start the same way we did before?"

"Show me what you would like?"

"I will," she promises, this closeness with someone this considerate as hopeful as she always imagined, even when convinced that she'd never get to experience anything of the sort. "Why don't we start by lying down, so we won't lose our balance again?"

"Good idea, sweetheart. I've hardly become any better at remaining upright after what just happened."

He gives her a shy but very satisfied smile, his hands resting on her sides even as she somewhat reluctantly leaves her very agreeable position in his lap. She lies on her side in the hay, facing him, and he follows her example.

"Thank you for all of this," he murmurs, lightly stroking her side, his hand knowing its way to the bare skin underneath her blouse by now. "I can't begin to describe how much I enjoyed what we just did, and I can't wait to find out what else we might do together… to  _feel_ it."

"It's exactly the same for me."

His tongue immediately finds hers once more when she kisses him again, and he gradually appears to become surer of himself as each and every brush and slide of their lips is met with great approval.

By now, she is slightly prepared for the heat and the warmth of a much more emotional kind that run all through her when he kisses her thoroughly—like there's nothing he would rather do. That doesn't mean that she will ever get entirely used to his always careful but increasingly eager movements, the intoxicating taste and smell of him, no matter how familiar she hopes to become with these things—with all of him.

Not pleasantly distracted by his pressing arousal this time, they kiss and caress until they feel dizzy from it, in the most delightful way imaginable. He takes her breath away, replacing it with something yet better, and she can't get enough of him even as they all but devour one another.

Without being entirely aware of her own actions, Belle pulls him on top of her, cradling his still covered thighs between her own. The two of them find a good angle without even trying, never breaking their kiss. He lightly rubs himself against her and the movements appear to give them both equal pleasure, although he has gotten completely soft and she is moving deliciously against his hipbone.

"What would you like me to do, sweetheart?" he rasps, reminding her that there are some yet better things to explore.

"Your fingers. I want to feel your fingers against me…  _inside_ of me."

Rumple looks questioningly from his digits over the length of her body and back, clearly not understanding what she's talking about. She smiles fondly at him, knowing that his reaction has nothing to do with reluctance to return the favor, and takes his hand in her own.

His eyes widen beautifully when she guides his fingertips under the edge of her skirt, along her inner thigh. His gentle caress feels better yet now that he is so affected by it as well.

Belle is gasping, desperate for his touch, but loving the anticipation of it almost as much as the prospect of the satisfaction he will doubtlessly bring her. She's  _dripping_ and he hasn't even touched her properly yet, they haven't even taken their clothes off and…

Her breathing quickens further when he nears his goal, his soft groan and eager gaze telling her he's also becoming aware of what this is doing to her. But that's nothing compared to both of their reactions when he closes the last few inches separating him from where she wants him the most.

She cries out his name, probably  _shrieking_ it when he experimentally presses his fingers against her through the fabric of her panties. She's more sensitive than she knew she could be, the tentative touch sending her reeling already.

"Sweetheart…" he brings out, sounding utterly wrecked by this evidence of her ecstasy.

"Just keep going," she pants, smiling with bliss as his continued efforts have the sweet pleasure inside of her building further.

Rumple nods fiercely, as if there were nothing he could enjoy more than doing this for her. There's one small adjustment she'd still very much like to make, however—something she thinks he'll like almost just as much as she.

Reaching for his wrist and locking her eyes with his when he quickly looks up at this perceived interruption, she smiles mischievously at him and nudges him lightly.

His fingertips end up exactly where she intended. Sensing that he's just as lost in her as the other way around, she gasps in unison with him when he directly touches her molten heat for the first time. He  _shudders_  as he experimentally moves his fingers over this new spot, bare skin against bare skin—and so does she, wholeheartedly surrendering herself to the gradually increasing pressure.

"There's one more way to make this better," she says throatily, continuing to guide his hand. "If you keep your thumb right here, you can slide your middle finger into…"

His hand covered by her own, the shy spinner eventually catches her meaning once more. This time, his mouth falls open and he groans lowly as he starts both directly and indirectly increasing the ache between her thighs.

Nevertheless, Belle doesn't notice his reaction to her, no matter how much it would have pleased her. Similarly, she doesn't fully realize how easily her body takes him in, nor the fact that it is clearly the first time he is experiencing anything like this, just like a lot of this is mostly new to her. She is overwhelmed by how good this feels, how  _right_ , realizing that she can't imagine her life without it all anymore… can't imagine it without  _him_.

The only thing she's currently aware of is the pleasure that keeps on building and building, more quickly and more powerfully than she would ever have suspected. She can't even tell its exact origin any longer, his digits seeming to be at all the right places at once.

"Crook your finger a little?" she gasps, hoping to finally experience what she's read about more than once.

He does exactly that, to explosive results. Touching something perfect inside of her, the spinner breaks the last remnants of the dam this bliss had been building behind from about the moment she first laid eyes on him. She whimpers and  _shudders_ when it washes all over her, clawing at the hay beneath her for something to hold on to—other than the very hand that is fueling the rush.

When she feels like she isn't at risk of hurting him any longer, she grabs him instead, holding onto him for all she is worth as the pleasure keeps spreading all the way inside of her, returning again and again.

Several minutes must pass before she recovers somewhat, this time period prolonged by his hand continuing to do its magic. More satisfied than she knew she could be and, indeed, practically reduced to a puddle of bliss, she smiles widely up at him, the delight written all over his face making this better yet.

Belle pulls him on top of her, the aftermath of what they just did becoming even more enjoyable now that they are touching like that once more—especially as he still does not cease stimulating her, despite this more difficult angle.

"You're magnificent, sweetheart," he murmurs, as if he hadn't been wonderful enough to her already.

"So are you," she breathes, kissing him lovingly when her response is met by another skeptic look. "No one ever made me feel like this before."

"I'm sorry about that. You deserve all the pleasure in the world."

"Well, I got that now."

"It's a start," he agrees, languidly kissing her back. "For me as well. I'd never felt anything like this before either."

"I intend to make you feel this way a lot more often," she says, looking up at him to gauge his reaction.

"I can't imagine anything more wonderful, and I want to do exactly the same for you," he replies, his smile broad and happy. "So does that mean that you're… staying?"

"For ten months at least, yes. I don't know how often I'll actually be able to come and visit you, but I'm not going anywhere for the time being."

"I can't tell you how good to hear that is."

"And what about tonight?" she asks, increasingly aware that there's nowhere else she'd rather be and nothing she'd rather do than stay there in the hay with him. "Let's remain right here?"

"I'd love that."

"Let's get more comfortable."

"What do you have in mind?"

Gently urging him to roll off her, she scoots backwards against him until her back is against his chest and she can reach for his arm, pulling it around her waist.

"What about this?"

"It's lovely, but we will probably get cold after a while. Unless… if you don't mind sleeping under a layer of hay…"

"Not at all," she replies, watching in bemusement as he pulls considerable quantities of hay over their entwined forms.

"Perfect," he sighs, sounding utterly contented, once they're covered almost as if by an actual blanket.

"Let's try and rest like this?"

"Best way I've ever fallen asleep," he murmurs, pressing his face against the back of her neck.

"It's the same for me," she answers, wriggling a little so she can get even more comfortable in his embrace.

Tomorrow, she will have to consider the differences between his life and hers, figure out how to keep their relationship out of the spotlight for as long as possible—and discuss their options together if she can't guarantee his privacy any longer.

But those worries are for later. For now, she is simply going to fall asleep in the arms of her spinner, and she is confident that she has found her own happy beginning.


End file.
